There are many different responses I could give, depending upon which chapter of those three months we give a spotlight.
Late May: incredibly busy and blessed. I got married! I was surrounded by friends and family who came to celebrate the love that Tony and I share as we tied our knot. Amazing!
Early June: fun! Tony and I just returned from our honeymoon in New Orleans, and it was about time we satisfied our travel bug. We enjoyed all of the local food and cocktails. We had a blast!
Early/Mid June: boring. Why didn't I get an internship this summer? What am I going to do? Now that all the excitement is over, I find myself at home all day, not doing much. Will this affect my ability to get job after graduation? Is this a premonition of what is to come?
Mid June: words can't describe. I got a phone call before Father's Day weekend that my mother's health had quickly taken a turn for the worse. My parents' home has been set up with hospice care. There's a hospital bed set up in the living room, and mom's on oxygen.
What?
But the wedding was just three weeks ago. She was OK then. Wasn't she? Was I too focused on myself to notice? Breaking down. I have to go home. I'll be right there.
We got home the night of June 19. There were lots of family there, visiting, helping. So many people ready to help clean, cook, chat, hug. Mom was in her hospital bed but her appearance wasn't as frightening as my brother had made it seem; or maybe his warning prepared me enough so that I was ready. She was loopy from the pain killers but happy to see us. She looked tired. We gave her a NOLA magnet to add to her collection. I had to describe to her what it looked like and what was on it. But we were home. We were together.
Five days later, we said goodbye.
Cancer is so scary. It takes action so incredibly quickly; in the blink of an eye, your life is irrevocably changed. There's nothing you can do but brace yourself.
August 2014 - we all went on vacation together, to Hilton Head Beach, one of her favorite spots. Then I started graduate school. September 2014 - she was complaining about being sick. A cold, maybe? After a couple weeks she went to the doctor: pneumonia. She took some antibiotics. Still wasn't getting better. She got a chest scan. A mass? What do you mean? They found a mass on her lung. But what could that mean? It could be anything, right? Right? Three days later, it was final: small-cell lung cancer. September 26, 2015. A day that would change our lives. She was given 4-8 months to live.
Well, do you know what happened two days before that 8 month mark? Her youngest daughter's wedding. She never told me about the prognosis. I knew that it wasn't good, but I never had an idea of a specific time frame - not that it really matters, because I really feel like it's kind of a shot in the dark. But she was determined. She wanted to be there, so she would be there. And she was there.
I remember talking to her on the phone in April, or maybe early May, about the wedding. She started to cry. Since Easter, she had been dealing with double vision, likely caused by the cancer interfering with her brain. She had to wear an eye patch and use just the good eye to see. She wept, "I wanted my eye to be better. I didn't want to have to wear this ugly eye patch to your wedding. I'm going to ruin all of the pictures. I just wanted your day to be perfect." Looking back, sure - they eye patch was surely bothering her. But I don't think that's what she was truly upset about. She was hoping that her health would be better. She was worried she wouldn't make it. She had been fighting so hard - seeing doctors in different parts of the country, trying chemotherapy, juicing, taking supplements - but the cancer was fighting back.
She made it to the wedding. No one had a clue how precarious her health had turned. I'll never know whether that's good or bad. If we had known the severity, would we have been there more? But this is a slippery slope - asking 'what ifs' after the loss of a loved one. So I will stop there.
Yes, she enjoyed herself at the wedding. Dad had crafted some glasses for her to wear, which he attached a flesh-colored eye patch directly to the lens. That way, she didn't have an elastic band around her head, and the patch itself was less obvious behind the lenses. She wore her favorite wig and a beautiful beaded cocktail dress. She bought a pair of striking heeled sandals that broke before she even made it to the venue, but (always prepared) she had sandals as backup. She took the glasses off for pictures. She stayed until eleven thirty at night to help clean up.
All the while, I had no idea. I guess during this whole journey I always thought she was so strong, I didn't have to worry too much. Maybe I'm naïve. Maybe I was being a self-centered bride. But she WAS so strong. She was such a trooper. Upon getting home from the reception, she got sick before even getting into the house. That's how strong she was. She didn't want our pity, she didn't want the attention on her. She IS such a hero.
Exactly one month after the wedding, we lost her. She turned a 4-8 month prognosis into a solid 9 months. She was so strong-willed (read: stubborn). She wasn't going to let a doctor tell her how long she had. She had things to do.
Saying goodbye to her was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. There is no doubt in my mind I speak for my dad, brother, and sister when I say that, as well. Sometimes I still can't believe it.
How was my summer? Well. It was monumental. Emotional. Important. It was unforgettable. I won't forget, because I can't. I won't forget, because I choose to remember.
